Hunting With The Boys
by EmCWolf
Summary: A female narrator's adventures with the Winchester brothers. Will she become a danger to them instead of being her usual helpful self? DeanxNarrator (no Wincest)
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is my first fanfic...I hope you guys like it! Please review so I know what you like and what to improve - constructive criticism is definitely welcome! This hasn't been beta-read either, so all mistakes are mine. I don't own Dean (oh, what I would do if I did!), Sam, or anyone else from the series - they're all Kripke's. But the narrator is my character...hope you like her! =)_

_- Em_

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><p>I sigh wearily, ready to just fall into bed. I'm so exhausted I don't even think about showering and washing off the grime and the blood of the vamps we'd just ganked. The boys are worn out too, but Dean still throws me an adorably sleepy smile - well, one of his smirky smiles, anyways. They sat on the edges of their beds, ready to rock-paper-scissors for who was sharing their bed with me.<p>

"Okay. Ready? 1...2...3!" Sam says. Dean lost, rock to scissors. "Seriously, Dean? ALWAYS with the scissors," Sam says. "Looks like you gotta share...again. I'd almost say you WANTED to sha-"

"Dude, chill out already!" Dean interrupted, not letting Sam finish. "Maybe I just really really suck at rock-paper-scissors," he sullenly replies, narrowing his eyes at Sam.

"Sure you do Dean, sure you do."

"Bitch," says Dean.

"Jerk," Sam instinctively responds.

"Ugh. Whatever," Dean says. "Ready to get some shut-eye?" he asks me. The corner of his mouth twitches, which I knew meant he was holding back a grin.

"Hell yeah," I sigh, keeping in a grin of my own. "But first..."

"Oh. Yeah, do your voodoo healing thing real quick," he tells me.


	2. Chapter 2

***Flashback***

My twin sister was handicapped. Despite her autism, epilepsy, and cerebral palsy, she did very well. The highlight of her day was our evening walks down the street. Today, I'd decided we should walk around our wooded backyard, for a change in scenery. Our parents didn't mind, so we went for the walk. I heard something rustle to our right, so I moved between her and the noise. I'd assumed it was one of the deer that hung around. However, my misinterpretation would cause me grief...so, so much grief. A large, grey, dog-shaped blur rushed past. It pawed me out of the way, leaving me with three deep gashes on the upper part of my left arm - scars I still bear today. I tried to stop it, but it was determined as Hell to kill my sister. And it did. I'll never forgive myself.

A couple of days later, I began feeling different. I could _feel_ objects, acutely noticing their differing energies. One day, I realized I could blend my energy with an object's and move it however I wanted to. The gashes in my arm had also been slow to heal so far, but my parents and I watched in amazement as I healed myself and closed them in just under five minutes. We had suspected the thing that killed my sister was supernatural, but now we were sure. That was the day I vowed to avenge my sister.

A few years into my hunting career (after I'd ganked that werewolf that killed my sister), I met the Winchester brothers at the Harvelle's roadhouse. We joined forces, even though Sam was very suspicious. In fact, Dean's persistence was the only thing that got me on their team. Now though, Sam and I were on great terms. The three of us made an infallible team, flawlessly cooperating without the need for words. I knew I could heal myself, but after a few hunts I found out I could heal them too. And with Dean, I didn't heal him only in the physical. We both were broken from the guilt of feeling responsible for the death of someone we loved, and therefore we could relate to each other in a very personal way. In between grueling hunts, we would stay up researching and usually ended up unloading all the emotions we felt we couldn't express in front of Sam. We both were warriors, and felt the need to be strong. Admitting that we were weak was a huge step for both of us, but I think Dean had seen a kindred spirit in me from the first time we met.

***End Flashback***


	3. Chapter 3

"There you go, Sam. All healed up, right?" I ask.

"Y-yeah, thanks." he replies, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks as he meets my kind gaze. I always wondered why I made him so nervous, but I assumed it was because I had to touch him to heal him completely.

"Of course. I owe you after all the times you've saved my ass out there, don't I?" He chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess so," he agrees, a grin washing over his face.

"All right you two," Dean says, sauntering in half-dressed with thumbs slung through the belt loops of his loose-fitting jeans, fresh from his shower. I always had to keep from gasping in appreciation of his well-muscled body and the way his hair dripped little rivulets of water down his forehead and the sides of his face. "Time for some well-earned rest, am I right?" he asks.

"Mmmm...yeah," I reply, stretching as I walk over to the bed I'd share with him. I crawl in, not caring about getting the sheets dirty.

After a quick good night, Sam's breathing had already gotten deep and regular. "Mmm. Gettin' the sheets dirty, sugar-pie?" Dean murmurs suggestively. I giggle, biting my lip. He hums appreciatively, running his nose along my gritty jawline.

"I don't wanna get you dirty, you silly boy," I murmur, suddenly all too aware of just how icky I was.

"I can take another shower, you silly woman," he shot back.

"Oh all right," I concede, kissing my way along his jawline. Our lips meet, chastely at first but the kiss quickly heats up. His hands twine in my hair, holding me against him. I nip his bottom lip, and he growls low in his throat. I moan softly, and he gently pulls away, breaking into a grin. I can't help smiling in response.

"I absolutely love that sound," he breathes. I bite my lip, still grinning, and giggle. "Mmm..." he groans.

"What is it?" I ask, knowing full well the effect all my lip-biting had on him.

"God, Emily, you are such a damn tease," he replies, a serious edge creeping into his voice. Suddenly, he rolls me over and gently settles on top of me. "And I'll get you for it someday, sugar-pie," he murmurs.

"Mmm...'sthat a threat? Or a promise?"

"Both," he mumbles against my collarbone, tenderly kissing his way up my neck and along my jaw. He looks lovingly into my eyes, his stunning green gaze meeting my steely blue one.

"We should sleep," he says, echoing my reluctant thoughts.

"Oh all right," I say, sounding playfully reluctant. He nuzzles my neck, winding my hair around his finger, and watching it slide off as though it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. He lays his head down softly on my chest, his still-damp hair wetting my shirt. I'd peeled off my leather hunting jacket and grimy outer shirt earlier, so my torso wasn't too dirty. My jeans, however, were coated in grit, despite my efforts to dust them off earlier.

"You're definitely gonna need another shower," I sleepily tell him.

"Orrr you could take 'em off," he says, guessing my thoughts and lifting his head to look me in the eye.

"Y-you're serious?" I ask, amazed.

"Yes, sugar-pie, I sure am," he says, his steady gaze reinforcing his statement.

"Well..."

"Don't be nervous. I won't do anything unless you want me to sweetheart," he says tenderly.

"That's just it." I sigh. "I...I've never _done_ anything," I say, meekly.

"You...what?" he asks, clearly stunned.

"I've never done anything...with hunting and all, I've never had a boyfriend or anything like that,"

"So...I'm your first?"

"Yeah, Dean...you are."

"Wh...how...God, I'm one lucky son of a bitch," he finally manages, shaking his head in amazement. I laugh, shocked that I can awe such an astounding man. "What's so funny?" he asks.

"Just...well, I'm so plain, so simple, and yet I somehow manage to shock someone as insanely amazing as you. I'm in awe of you most of the time, but for _you_ to be the one in awe...it's...well, it's crazy," I tell him, giggling. He gives me one of his full-on dazzling grins, which are precious because they are so rare - I think he reserves them just for me.

"You know what's crazy? You. And you thinking you're plain and simple. You dazzle me every single day, with your grace and generosity and kindness. With your ferocity, your devotion and determination. You're such a beautiful, complex, amazing mess. A mess I love to love." he says, turning suddenly confessional. I am stunned. He gently kisses me, full of reverence, almost - if I didn't know better, I'd say he was almost worshipping me, his kisses slow, sweet, and tender. "I. Love. You. I. Will. Never. Let. You. Go. You. Are. The. Love. Of. My. Life. You. Are. Mine." he says, between our sweet kisses.

"Mmm. I. Am. Yours. I. Love. You. So. Much." I say, echoing his sentiment.

He breaks off the kisses and props himself up, our chests just barely touching. "Emily, good God...what you do to me. My holy water, the silver in my bullet...my only weakness. I've never loved anyone or anything like this..." he trails off.

"Well, I haven't either, Dean. But I never ever want to let you go. I was always scared of love, scared of someone I loved getting hurt again. Scared of _me_ getting hurt. But I feel safe with you. I know you can fend for yourself, I won't have to protect you from my life. But I still want to keep you safe," I say, all my feelings pouring out.

"Oh, baby. I...I want to protect you too. The last time I loved someone...well, she got hurt. Real bad. And I got hurt worse. It tore my heart out to see her as bad off as she was...and then..." I could tell he was fighting back tears. I lean up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He lays his head on my chest and holds on to me tightly, as if I was his life jacket, the only thing saving him from drowning in a storm-tossed sea. "She...she blamed me for it. And now...I don't know whose fault it was. But it's my biggest regret." he says, his low voice vibrating through my chest.

"That's why I've been so unattached. I've had lots of physical relationships - God only knows how many - but you...I want to connect with you, savor you while we have the time. I wanna live with you before Hell rips us apart."

"Oh, Dean," I whisper. Instead of saying anything else, I lean up and kiss him fiercely. He groans and kisses me back just as fiercely. He cups my face, running the index finger of his other hand sweetly along my jawline, jarringly inconsistent with the intensity of his kisses. After a few more lingering kisses, he breaks away, leaving my lips tingling from the searing heat. He runs his nose along my jaw, from my ear to my chin, growling low in his throat - almost purring. Then he looks me in the eye and kisses me sweetly on the tip of my nose before laying his head on my chest.

"Time for some sleep?" I whisper.

"Hell yeah," he murmurs back. "Good night, sugar-pie."

"Good night, Dean Winchester," I say quietly, placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. I run my fingers through his damp hair over and over until he falls asleep, his breathing becoming deep and even.


	4. Chapter 4

I wake to someone softly planting kisses along my jawline, from my ear to my chin and around to my other ear. I slowly open my eyes but keep perfectly still and wait for Dean to notice I'm awake. After a few more kisses, he glances up and sees I'm up.

"Oh. Hey there, sugar-pie," he whispers.

"Mmm...hey yourself," I say quietly, untangling my arms from him and stretching languorously. I glance towards the door as Dean brushes my hair back from my face and Sam walks in. Dean shifts to look at the door and grins when he sees Sam.

"What's up, Sammy boy?" Dean asks.

"Got us a case, but if you two are, ah, busy..." Sam trails off, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Nah, it's cool," Dean says while he stretches. "Right, sugar-pie?" he asks me. Before I get a chance to answer, he leans down and kisses me long and hard. I grin, panting slightly when he finally breaks away, and I laugh when I notice Sam's disappearance.

"What's so funny?" Dean asks as he rubs his nose against mine.

"You ran Sam off, silly," I say, giggling.

"Well, if he'd stayed, he might..." he breaks off and whispers, "Cover you ears," to me. "He might learn how to kiss a girl!" Dean yells.

"Shut up, Dean!" Sam hollers back.

"Bitch!" Dean says as he gets up.

"Jerk!" Sam replies as Dean and I walk into the small living area of the motel room. I playfully smack the back of his head as I walk past him to the computer to see what he's dug up. "Ow," he responds, feigning hurt.

"That's whatcha get for interrupting," I say, glancing sideways at Dean. Sam blushes but keeps a straight face. Dean punches him in the arm.

"C'mon man. It ain't like you've never loved somebody," Dean says.

"Yeah...but it's you, dude. You're my brother. It's just a little weird, dontcha think?"

Dean smiles his "I'm-being-so-sarcastic-right-now" smile as he replies. "No, I don't think so. Not at all."

"Ugh. Whatever, ya weirdo," Sam says.

"Hey, you might actually learn somethin'," Dean shoots back.

"Well, I don't wanna learn it from you, bro," Sam tells him. "No offense, Em," Sam says to me. I laugh.

"Now what's that s'posed to mean?" I ask Sam, adding to his discomfort.

"I...it...uh..." he stutters. Dean punches Sam again.

"It's chill, dude. Just don't touch her," he says, growing very serious.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Sam replies, just as seriously. He glances at me before continuing. "Well...I can't promise that," he adds, a suppressed grin making the corners of his mouth twitch. Dean's expression quickly darkens. "Dude. Chill. I won't touch her unless I gotta. 'Kay?" Sam says, trying to placate his brother.

"'Kay," Dean says, grinning.

"God, there is so much freaking testosterone right now," I remark as I skim through the files Sam has pulled up: three vics total, two said to be self-inflicted fatal wounds, one case gone cold. But you just wouldn't saw your own feet and head off, now would you? Def not suicides, if you ask me.

"So, who will we investigate first?" I ask, knowing we'll have to look into all of 'em eventually.

"I was thinkin' the first 'suicide' vic...all three are in a small town called Lyon just outside of Clarksdale, Mississippi. First vic is female - Elizabeth. 23, straight A's through college, no boyfriend, good family, one older brother. The second one's also female, her name's Amelia. 21, good grades in high school, looking into the local colleges, dated her boyfriend for three years. Dad was prone to drink, so the mom got a divorce when our vic was two. No siblings. Third vic was a 25-year-old female, Jessica. Devoted to academics, in college for a Bachelor's in education, single, nice parents, no other siblings. All three found with both feet sawed off and attempted self-decapitation before they bled out...or so the Feds say. No weapons found near the scene which suggests foul play," Sam fills Dean in.

"Hmm. Can we go check out the bodies? I might be able to ID it using the kerfs." I say. Kerf marks were the marks a cutting implement made in a person's bone. Every cutting instrument made a different set, and so the particular saw used could easily be ID'd.

"Uh...what?" Dean asks. "Translate that into English for me, Sammy boy."

"She can figure out what weapon was used, most likely what type of saw blade in this case, from the cutting marks that are left on the bones...provided the M.E. or funeral home didn't screw up and polish 'em," Sam provides.

"Ah. Somebody paid attention in forensics class, apparently." Dean sarcastically replies, throwing me a crooked grin at me.

"Well...you gotta learn what you can, right?" I retort.

"Touché. Now then. Off to look at bones, I presume?"

"Yeah. You two can do your FBI routine while I do that if you wanna,"

"No," Dean says immediately. "One of us is with you at all times...whatever this thing is, you're exactly its type and you're not gettin' hurt on my watch."

"All right, all right," I say, holding my hands up to show I meant no harm. "Just a suggestion, silly," I tell him.

"Sorry. I just wanna keep you safe."

"I know...and I appreciate it, Dean. So. You want me to tag along with y'all, then?"

"Uhm yeah. Three agents is still believable, right Sammy?" Dean asks.

"I'd think so, for such a bizarre case." he replies.

"All righty then. So we'll do the FBI investigations and then go look at some bones...not too bad," I remark.

"Yeah. Not too bad at all," Dean agrees.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ugh. I can't just wear jeans and a T-shirt, can I?" I ask Dean after my shower, wrapped in my towel. It felt so good to finally be clean and not all gritty and grimy.

"'Fraid not, sweetheart. How bout that little black dress I like, hmm?" he suggests. The dress he was talking about hit me mid-thigh and hugged me in all the right places, with a sweetheart neckline and low, sweeping v-shaped back that didn't completely cover me until just above my hips. I usually only wore it once or twice a year, saving it for special occasions.

"Well...FBI agents aren't usually that...provocative, are they?"

"Hell if I know. But I'm sure the families won't mind. You don't have to wear it though," he says.

"Nah...I deserve to be sexy once in a while, I guess. Right?" I concede, looking up at him from under my lashes.

"Oh, you're sexy all the time - trust me. And you wonder why I have such a short attention span," he remarks to himself, eyeing me hungrily. I blush under his heated gaze, biting my lip from shyness. He draws in a sharp breath - almost a gasp - through parted lips and groans under his breath. I innocently smile at him and walk over to the small closet the three of us share, leafing through the hangers until I find the dress. I slide it on and let my towel pool around my feet. As I shimmy the dress over my hips, Dean suddenly wraps his arms around me and nibbles at my neck. I tilt my head to the right which gives him more access. He takes it, slowly kissing his way down to my collarbone and back up to just beneath my ear. He gently tugs on my ear, which he knows drives me crazy. I press back against him and he groans low in my ear. He lets go, spins me around, and kisses me hard. All too quickly he steps back and turns to leave. He throws me a grin over his shoulder that tells me he knows I'll get him for it later.

With Dean's driving, we got to Lyon in just about an hour and maybe 15 minutes. It was just lunchtime, so we decided to check in to a motel, grab lunch at a diner, and ask about the vics to find where their families were.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean had gleaned some info from our waitress, so we followed up on it. It was the family of the cold case vic, so we asked about the local investigation. No weapon was found, but the father was the prime suspect because he was a carpenter and had easy access to any number of saws. He protested his innocence, which we agreed with to calm him down. The mother said the vic had a dream of a young girl with no feet about a month before she passed away. We offered our condolences and left.

We all quickly piled back into the Impala. This time, Sam gave me shotgun since he'd ridden in the front on the way down.

"So the vic is doing fine until she dreams of a little girl missing her feet. A month later, she's been doing okay, and suddenly decides to kill herself by sawing off her feet. Doesn't add up at all," Sam sums up.

"Well, we're fairly certain it's not a human murder unless we've got a serial killer on our hands. And the mysterious dream means that...hmm. Death omen or vengeful spirit, right?" I say, quickly piecing together the evidence.

"Very good...you catch on quick, sugar-pie," Dean tells me.

"Well, when it's life or death, that's kind of important, you silly," I tease. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "What is it?" I ask. "

You. I'd never let Sammy here call me silly in a gazillion years..." At that, Sam chuckles. "But with you...I don't care. It's like I told you: you make me weak. But a good weak. I...I don't know how to explain it. And yes, Sam, I know I'm rambling like a lovestruck fool. You can deal with it," he adds, his usual sarcasm making an appearance.

I glance at Sam in the rearview and he's trying so hard to keep a straight face it makes me laugh. Dean looks at him too, and then he starts laughing. Soon enough, Sam's resolve breaks and all three of us are laughing over nothing. We decide to visit some local shops to see what info we can get on the last two vics.


	7. Chapter 7

As Dean holds the door for me to enter a small craft store, the owner looks me up and down. I repress a shudder as I show the old drunk my badge.

"Agent Marcia Smith, FBI. My partners, Agents Harrison and Fitzgerald. We're investigating three deaths that occurred here over the last eight months." I inform the still obviously enamored shop owner. "

Ah. And tell me, Miss Smith, who were the victims?" he says, leering at me. Dean (who I introduced as Agent Harrison) steps almost imperceptibly closer to me, also protectively shifting his weight to his left, closer to me.

"Amelia Ingram and Elizabeth Meriott. The third victim's identity can't be revealed due to the case being as yet unsolved." I state officiously.

"Did you know these women?" Dean asks.

"Why, yes, I did, Agent Harrison. They were frequent customers. You know girls...they love their little trinkets," the owner replies.

I briefly sweep my gaze around the room and notice the feminine quality of the jewelry. Bracelets, earrings, necklaces...but one corner has a darker, more gothic feel.

"Sir, what kind if jewelry did they buy?" Sam asks.

"Well, Agent Fitzgerald, they liked the brighter jewelry...you know, the neon colors like pink and yellow and blue. But, if I remember right, a few weeks before her suicide - poor thing - Amelia bought a darker bracelet, with one charm. The charm was somethin' she asked for, a little girl, to honor her little sister. The sister had been, uh, well, stillborn, I think's the word for it. The baby's feet had been mussed up too, I remember her tellin' me about that. She asked for the charm to have no feet too. But, uh, y'all probably don't care about that. 'Lizabeth always liked the bright stuff, especially yellows and oranges," he concludes.

"Thank you, Mr. ..." I say, waiting for him to supply his name.

"Mr. Kelly. Greg Kelly. You're welcome, Agents," he says, throwing a yellowed smile at me.


	8. Chapter 8

As we exit the store, I shiver. "Total creep," "What a freak," Dean and I say at the same time. We both chuckle.

"Sammy, you're awful quiet. What's up?" Dean asks after a beat of silence.

"Nothin'...just tryin' to figure out how the dead baby sister fits into all of it. Wanna go visit Amelia's family now?" he suggests.

"Yeah, sure," Dean agrees. "Ain't got nothin better to do." He glances at me, arching an eyebrow. I quickly nod, agreeing with visiting the vic's family. "All righty, then. That's settled. Let's hit the road, girls!" he says, elbowing Sam, who elbows him back in protest.

After a little while riding in silence (on our way to the family's residence on the outskirts of town), Sam speaks up from the backseat. "Y'know, that silent communication thing between y'all kinda freaks me out," he says.

Dean scoffs, glancing at me. "Why's that, little brother? You an' I do it all the time,"

"Well, yeah...but it's just weird seein' you do the same sorta thing with someone else. I guess now I get why some people look at us funny sometimes, though." Sam replies.

Surprisingly, Dean just leaves it at that - for a few moments, anyway. "Oh, no," he says quietly.

"What? What's wrong, Dean?" Sam quickly questions, worry marring his features as his brows knit from concern.

"Well...I think - mind you, I'm not sure - but I _think_..." Dean responds, face serious. I know he's dragging it out just to mess with Sam. Although I don't know what he thinks, I can tell from the glimmer in his eyes it's nothing serious - but I play along, looking at him with concern etched on my face.

"Think what? C'mon, man! Spill it!" From his panicked tone, I can tell Sam is in near-crisis mode.

"Yeah, Dean! What's wrong?" I ask, letting fake panic tinge my voice as I go with whatever Dean's gonna do.

"I think...you might be jealous!" Dean practically shouts, watching his brother's reaction in the rearview. I watch too, seeing Sam's features go from worry to relief with an amused shake of his head.

"So not funny, man," he says, punching Dean in the arm.

Dean looks at me, eyes wide, faking incredulity. "Did he just _hit_ me?" he asks me, his voice rising in mock offense.

"I think he did, Dean!" I say, widening my eyes and raising my eyebrows in fake astonishment. I turn and glance at Sam, who's trying very hard not to laugh. "Now, now! You best pipe down, mister Moose!" I tell him, with a stern look while waggling my finger at him. He busts out laughing and so do Dean and I.

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><p><em>AN: Sorry this took so long and is so short - the Muse wasn't cooperating! I should have another update in the next couple of days though, so keep an eye out! =)_

_Thanks to those who've read! And special thanks to _Spirit Burner AKA Chick Feed_ and _ncsupnatfan_ for reviewing! =)_


	9. Chapter 9

We finally arrived at the house of Amelia's family. Judging by the way their house was kept neatly under control, I figured the family would be conservative and have a few rules Amelia would've had to follow. Rules like not staying out 'til 2 in the morning, like keeping her room neat, like managing her time and doing her best in school - common sense rules, at least to me.

When we rang the doorbell, a dark-haired woman in her mid-forties answered. "Hello, are you Mrs. Ingram?" I asked while trying to keep my tone cordial. The boys thought I was too sympathetic, but a little sympathy never hurt, did it?

"Yes, ma'am, I sure am," she responded - almost cheerily. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Agent Smith, with the FBI," I said showing her my badge. "My partners and I would like to ask you a few questions about Amelia's death - if you wouldn't mind, of course."

"No, of course not, hon. Come on in - and the boys too!" the kind woman said. I smiled at her, knowing that she was trying to force herself to be "normal."

The three of us settled on a couch in the large living room, with me in the middle. She sat across her empty glass coffee table in a comfortable-looking armchair.

I cleared my throat and waited to see if one of the boys would take the chance to lead. After a few seconds, I glanced at Dean, who nodded almost imperceptibly at me to go ahead.

"Firstly, ma'am, we are very sorry for your loss. If I was in your circumstance, I know I wouldn't be holding up as well as you are."

"Well, thank you Ms. Smith...I really appreciate it. This has been hard on me, especially after havin' already lost one child..." she trailed off. I noticed she was fidgeting with a black beaded bracelet on her right arm.

"That's a pretty bracelet, Mrs. Ingram,"

"What, this? Yes, I suppose so," she said while slipping it off. She laid it across her hand so we could see the charm.

"This is in memory of my first daughter, Charlotte. She was -" At that, Mrs. Ingram broke off, close to tears. When she resumed talking, her voice was barely a whisper.

"She was stillborn...and her feet...oh, her feet were all mangled - like somethin' had tried to eat 'em up. And all the ultrasounds had been normal...she had a heartbeat...and then she didn't." she said, breaking into tears now.

I reached my hand to her across the table. She took it and smiled sadly at me. "Well, Mrs. Ingram...I can see you've had a tough time." I gently squeezed her hand. "If you would like us to leave and come back, we certainly can," I said, my sympathy for this poor woman overwhelming the need to get the case solved.

"No, no, that's all right, dear. I just...get emotional, that's all. What do you need to know about Amelia?"

"Well, before her passing, had she mentioned anything strange? Nightmares, seeing things, hearing voices, that kind of strange?"

"Well...one night about three weeks before her death - God rest her soul - she said she had this terrible dream. A little girl had come to her and then the girl started to scream. Amelia said the girl's hands and feet got ripped away and then she woke up in a cold sweat. Other than that, though, there wasn't anything else out of the ordinary."

"All right, well, thank you for that, Mrs. Ingram. Did Amelia have any, uh, enemies? Any friends turned sour, ex-boyfriends, that sort of thing?"

"Oh, no, Ms. Smith. She was the most kind-hearted thing! Everyone wanted to be her friend. But if I remember right, one of her friend's mothers wasn't too pleasant. She passed away from cancer a couple years ago though, so that's kind of pointless."

"Well, any information helps," I told her, rising. The boys took their cue and shook hands with her.

As we left, I turned and gave her a hug. "I'm sure, she's in a better place now, and that you'll see her again someday," I whispered to her. She gave me a grandmotherly kiss on the forehead. "Bless you, child," she whispered quietly as I walked away.

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><p><em>AN: Hope you guys liked it! Any ideas are welcome =) School starts back Monday for me, so I'm not sure when my updates will be - sporadic at best...but I'll try to update as much as I can!_

_ ~Em_


	10. Chapter 10

We were on our way back to the motel - and I was half-asleep - when Dean suddenly slammed on his brakes.

"Damn deer!" he muttered.

As I watched the blurry shape, I felt an urge to protect the boys from it, to get them away.

"Dean...that wasn't a deer. That was something..._different_," I said, trying to keep the snarl out of my voice.

"Different?" Sam asked, seeming skeptical.

"Supernatural. Not earthly. Just _different_," I said, clenching my fists and gasping as my dull headache suddenly sharpened.

Dean glanced over at me, his concern evident.

"Just a headache, Dean." I sad, attempting to placate him. He returned his attention to the road, but his jaw was tight with was I guessed was anxiety over my pain.

A brief silence fell. I glanced at Sam in the rearview. He seemed broody. Although Dean was joking earlier, could Sam really be upset that Dean was so concerned about me?

Finally, as the unnatural feeling refused to go away, I broke the silence. "Dean...get us away from here...please. I don't like it," I said.

"Will do," came the curt response as he floored it.

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><p>We were about ten minutes away from the motel when my headache got even worse. It felt like there were little people with hammers inside my skull, beating away at it and trying to get out. I kept quiet and clenched my fists tighter.<p>

I saw the blood drip from my closed fists before I felt the pain. Dean glanced at me to see how I was doing, his expression turning to one of horror, fear, and concern at my blood-spattered, white-knuckled fists. Dean pulled over and quickly got me unbuckled and on the ground. I curled up in a ball, finally feeling the pain.

"Emily. Uncurl your fists," Dean ordered, grabbing my wrists as his eyes searched mine for recognition. I slowly did as he asked.

His panicked whisper of "_Good God...no. Dammit! Not her, not this..._" was the last thing I heard as shudders consumed my body and I blacked out.

* * *

><p>I came to, locked in our motel bathroom. There were claw marks everywhere. I wondered what in the hell the last tenants could have done to cause this (and how I hadn't noticed it) - but then I remembered it was pristine earlier.<p>

"Dean? Sam?" I called.

I heard furniture being dragged away from the door, and thought it odd. When the lock clicked and the door swung open, I was greeted not with a smiling face, but with the cold metal of the Colt's barrel aimed at my forehead.

"D-Dean?" I stuttered, sure my eyes were wide as saucers in fear. "Wh...what's going on?" I was on the verge of tears, suddenly emotional. He didn't respond, only stared at me - was that a trace of fear I saw in his eyes?

After what seemed to be an eternity, he put the gun down. "Oh, Emily..." he murmured, pulling me to him. "You don't know?" he asked, voice muffled by my hair. "Those claw marks...are from you."

I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably in his arms. Somehow we made it over to the bed and he just held me until the tears stopped.

"No..." I finally managed, my voice ragged from all the tears and the sobs that I had choked out. "I-it can't be! Why hasn't it happened before?"

"Sammy stayed up all night researching to see if we can cure you. You were scratched when you were sixteen, and you're 22 now, right? That's six years. There a very, very rare type of lycanthropy that lines up with that. Victims have also been able to heal themselves and others, too - just like you have. They've also reported telekinesis and ability to sense the supernatural. Also just like you. I think whatever it was last night finally triggered it in you."

"So...I'm a...a werewolf. Great...just great!" I said, my voice breaking. I paused, thinking back to the wolf that had apparently turned me.

"The thing did have an open wound when I tracked it down a few days after...I just didn't put it together...stupid, stupid, stupid!" I said, angry at myself.

After a few minutes of silence, I turned to Dean and looked him in the eye. "Just go on and do it. Shoot me now. Get it over with," I told him, resigned to my fate. Apprehension flooded his expression, along with what appeared to be sympathy. I knew it was his duty as a hunter - I was a monster. It was his job to kill things like me. Why delay the inevitable?


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Hope y'all like this one! The story will get back on the case in the next chapter, so stay tuned and keep reading! =) Special thanks to all who have reviewed, followed, and favorited, as always. Happy reading!**_

_** ~ Em**_

* * *

><p>A few minutes passed in silence after my plea for Dean to end me.<p>

"Dean? Come look at this...quick!" Sam called from the next room.

"I'll be right back," Dean said. He quickly went and grabbed his duffle bag and Sam's pistol. "You ain't dyin' on my watch," he murmured as he left to go talk to Sam.

* * *

><p>As Dean practically ran into the room, followed by Sam, I mournfully raised my head. I had been hugging my knees, still in the same place where Dean had left me. He bounced onto the bed beside me, and I turned to look at him.<p>

"You gonna shoot me now?" I asked, quietly.

"No, no...that's just it!" Dean exclaimed, grinning wildly. "You're safe, you're okay, we don't have to shoot you!"

I just stared at him, my world completely shattered yet again.

"The reason diagnosed cases are so rare is because those affected by this kind of lycanthropy can _control their changes_! Once the initial trigger happens, they can shift only parts of their body or become a full wolf - and they remember it! They're still human, just in a wolf's body...so you're safe, Emily! Your ESP will help us and you can still hunt and it's okay!" he said, the last bit jumbling together in an excited rush.

"Yeah...what he said," Sam spoke up, chuckling. "We'll keep a close eye on you tonight, but you should be fine."

I just sat very still for a few moments, processing this astounding information.

"W-wow," I finally managed to stutter out. "This is _definitely_ gonna take some adjusting to," I said, smiling broadly. A werewolf? Who remembered their change? And could _control_ it? How friggin' _awesome_ was that?!

"There's our girl," Sam said as he broke into a grin. I was startled at how he referred to me as theirs. I guess with me being abnormal like he was, Sam didn't have any more hard feelings towards me like I'd feared.

"Good to have ya back, where've ya been?" Dean asked me, jokingly.

"Well, apparently I've been in a wolf's body!" I responded. "Speaking of that...since we're relatively secure here...could I try a partial shift?"

The boys considered it for a moment, and Dean gave me the go-ahead.

* * *

><p>I relaxed my mind, searching for the more primal part of myself. I felt a rush of joy as my wolf spoke to me for the first time.<p>

_I am Amaris...your wolf side. I've waited for this day so long! What is it you wish for me to do?_ she asked kindly.

_Wow. Um. I guess just give me your, er, _my_ claws,_ I said, stumbling through the newness of being what I was.

_All righty. And, just so you know, you can call on me anytime. This will be enjoyable for us both now that the initial shift is complete. You have nothing to worry about - it's painless!_ she reassured me.

"Okay, well um...I talked to my wolf. Her name is Amaris and uh, she's gonna give me my claws like I asked...she said it'll be painless and I can call on her whenever so...yeah," I informed the boys, giggling nervously.

"Go for it," they answered in unison.

I touched my wolf again, allowing her to spread like fire through my veins. Her raw power was almost overwhelming, but pleasantly so.

_I could learn to love this,_ I thought.

_Good!_ came the joyous reply as my nails began to sharpen.

The three of us watched in amazement as they lengthened and grew even sharper.

With my claws still out, I went into the bathroom. The boys followed me when I motioned them over.

Since I'd already ripped up most of it, I figured another test of my strength wouldn't hurt. I sliced my left index finger over the porcelain of the bath tub, gasping as it gave under the gentlest touch I could muster. I swung my right hand up and crashed into the tub, busting through it. My claws were almost into the room below us!

"Wow," I breathed. I was in awe of my own power. So were the boys, staring open-mouthed at what I had done with a single blow. I reached out to Amaris again. This time, I didn't have to verbally think anything, I just knew how to make my claws retract. "Just a sec," I told Sam and Dean.

* * *

><p>I stood still and expanded my mind to take in the whole room, to feel everything in it. Slowly, I imagined everything becoming whole again, the room piecing itself back together.<p>

When I opened my eyes, the room was pristine once more. I was very proud - that was the first time I'd healed anything not living and it had gone perfectly!

"Well, that could come in handy," Dean joked as he elbowed me in the ribs. Sam chuckled.

I laughed. "Yeah I guess so, especially with you two!" I shot back.

"Ready to go grab some breakfast?" Dean asked Sam and I.

"Yeah, sure!" I responded. Dean looked at me funny. "What?" I asked.

"You're not talking, silly. But I can hear you," Dean said.

_Oh,_ I thought to Dean. _Well, this could come in handy sometime, right?_

_Yeah, I guess so,_ he answered. _Try it with Sam!_

_Test, test, test,_ I said to Sam. I waited a few seconds, but nothing happened. I tried it again, with the same results.

Dean glanced at me and realized what was going on. There was a pause as we both tried to figure out how to tell Sam.

"Sam...I don't know why, but I can't communicate with you. Only with Dean. I-I tried, but...well, it didn't work." I said, worried he would hold it against me.

"Oh," he said. His face fell as the news sunk in. "It's all right, I guess. Breakfast?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah sure!" Dean excitedly said.

"Sounds good to me," I told him, rubbing my hands together in overplayed anticipation.

We were off yet again, but this time _I_ was the one puzzling in silence. Why could I only talk to Dean?


	12. Chapter 12

We pulled into the gravel parking lot of a little local diner for breakfast, piling out and stretching on the way in. It was very homely - waitresses asking customers if they wanted "the regular", a friendly owner who greeted you warmly when you came in, a cooking staff who were happy to simply have a job, you know the type of place. A waitress walked us to our seats in a back corner booth, Sam across from Dean and I. Then she smiled kindly at us while handing us huge, slightly sticky menus to pick our meals from.

"I know what I'm gonna get," Dean declared as soon as he got his menu open.

"How can you pick that quick?" Sam asked. I was surprised Dean chose that fast too. Usually he at least took some time to look at all his options!

I leaned over and peered at the teensy font listing what came with the "Farmer's Special": 2 eggs, a huge slice of toast, grits, bacon...from the looks of it, the dish seemed to be one of every item on the menu!

"Good luck eating all that," I muttered.

"You'll see, girlie," Dean teased under his breath.

"Don't call me girlie," I shot back, playful but slightly annoyed. I'd been asking him to quit calling me girlie for what seemed like ages but it was no use.

Sam and I slid deep into concentration on our menus, trying to choose our meals. Eventually, I settled on French toast with powdered sugar and cinnamon, while Sam opted for a light meal of a steak biscuit and toast. The waitress who had seated us came to take our orders not long after we'd all decided, her eyes wandering over Sam as he gave her his order. I don't think he noticed, but Dean and I flashed a quick glance of recognition at each other while she lingered after taking Sam's order. I guessed there probably weren't many men who came to this joint that were as good-looking as the boys.

As she made her way back to the kitchen between the tables and mismatched chairs, Sam pulled out his laptop. He typed a quick query in and began clicking and scrolling furiously. Dean just glanced at me and raised his eyebrows, and I shrugged in return. I'd gotten used to Sam researching pretty much every available minute. I mean, the guy practically lived and breathed arcane facts and stories he dug up for cases. Finally, Sam leaned back after he found whatever he was looking for.

"I figured out that Amelia and Elizabeth's remains are in the same morgue - the morgue at the Mercy Hospital Washington, where they were both taken for treatment. It's not too far from here; in fact, it's only about a 20-minute drive."

"Awesome," "Sweet," Dean and I said, again speaking at the same time. I giggled softly, then glanced over at Dean. The glimmer in his vivid green eyes told me he was holding in a chuckle too.

We slip into silence after that, with Sam still clicking away and Dean leaned back with his eyes closed. I knew he must have been tired from the emotional roller coaster that had come along with the discovery about what I was - and that it actually turned out to be a good thing. Which reminded me: I needed to work out why I could only mentally talk with Dean. I gently called Dean's name in my head, starting very quietly and getting louder until he responded. He jumped a little when he finally heard me but Sam didn't notice, since he was buried in his researching.

_Good, you finally heard_ _me._ I thought to him, giggling in my head._ Any ideas on why I can't talk with Mr. Research over there?_

_Well,_ he said, his voice soberingly serious._ You know how that demon killed our mom, right?_

_Yeah, I remember you telling me. You guys killed that son of a bitch a while ago though, so what does it have to do with anything now?_

_It's...complicated. But the short of it is the demon fed Sam its blood, and he has...powers, I guess you could call them. Maybe those powers are keeping you from talking with him. But uh, do me a favor? _Dean asked.

_Of course. What is it? _I responded, concern momentarily clouding my face. I quickly deadpanned once I remembered no one else could hear us.

_Just, uh, don't bring it up to him right now. The stress of finding out what you are and all has really hit home with him since, well, he feels like a freak sometimes too. Not saying y'all are freaks by any means, but, uh, well you know what I'm sayin', right?_

_Yeah, I do. It's just too much for him to deal with right now. I don't blame him, I mean, it's been one hell of a roller coaster for me, I can only imagine what it must've been like for y'all. I'll let things lie for now. But you know we'll have to tell him eventually, right?_

_Yeah, yeah. And when the time comes, we will. I promise. Just...not now is all. 'Kay?_

_'Kay, Dean. No prob. _I responded as our waitress came sashaying back with out food.

"Looks like it's chow time!" Dean excitedly said as he dug in. Sam and I shared a chuckle before digging in ourselves. The French toast was delicious! It was so good I absolutely _had_ to get another slice to munch on en route to the hospital. From the quiet that had once again fallen over our little trio, I could tell the boys' meals were just as good as mine.

After we finished and left a generous tip for the waitress - at Sams' insistence, of course - we clambered back into the Impala, headed off to the morgue.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: _Sorry it's been so long since I updated. So the boys and Emily are back on the trail of whatever it is they're hunting...speaking of, what is it? We'll probably find out next chapter - and I promise it won't be as long before I get it posted! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with the story. :)_**


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